


As Long As You Have Either Contraception Or A Registered Gun, You'll Be Fine

by SomeBratInAMask



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Breathplay, Humor, M/M, Overindulgent fic, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 00:44:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2408903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeBratInAMask/pseuds/SomeBratInAMask
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you have protection? I didn't bring anything with me," Ivan explained.</p><p>Alfred pulled out the drawer, hand feeling inside before retrieving a handgun. "I'm always prepared, babe," he crowed, smiling sleazily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Long As You Have Either Contraception Or A Registered Gun, You'll Be Fine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bai_Marionette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bai_Marionette/gifts).



The dimly yellow lamp revealed the dinginess of Alfred's off-white walls, and Ivan registered that this was the least romantic place to have sex within the same second he pinned Alfred's shoulders to the bed. They crashed onto the mattress, springs howling beneath their weight.

"This room is disgusting," Ivan complained into Alfred's neck. Alfred made a low, throaty chuckle, winding his fingers through Ivan's softly tangled hair.

"It's not really a vacation spot, I'll admit. Cabin came in handy during Vietnam, though," he told him, tucking his thumb inside Ivan's scarf, rubbing the scars on his throat.

"We're in Wisconsin," reminded Ivan. "U.S.," he specified, just in case.

"Yeah, I know." Alfred removed his thumb and unwrapped the scarf, bundling it on the nightstand beside the lamp. He seized Ivan's neck in his hands, kneading the nape. He mouthed the Adam's apple.

Ivan rested his chin against Alfred, running his fingers down Alfred's spine, drawing up his shirt, cupping his lower back. His skin was hot. "You said you were in Vietnam."

Alfred's teeth scraped the bob of Ivan's throat. "No, I was hiding from Vietnam. Officers couldn't find me for shit."

Ivan startled back, fixing Alfred with a look simultaneously incredulous, disappointed, and incredulously disappointed. "You deserted your own war?" he exclaimed, shocked and wide-eyed.

"Dude, I had just gotten out of WWII!" Alfred said defensively, hands dropping to hold Ivan's waist in place. "I needed a break!"

"I would never abandon my military," Ivan claimed, voice firm. Alfred gazed at him flatly, unaffected.

"Whatever, man. I'm not ashamed," he lied. "Are you gonna do this sex thing, or not?" he pouted.

Ivan raised a thick eyebrow, pressing their faces together. "Only because your words woo me so," he breathed against Alfred's lips. "'The sex thing,'" he repeated seriously.

"Oh, fuck off," Alfred flicked Ivan's ear. "Wait, fuck, I missed a golden opportunity there."

"Opportunity?"

"Yeah." Alfred grinned. "Fuck you," he began. Then he smirked. "Or, me." He winked.

Ivan clapped. "Nice performance."

"Yeah? Interested in an encore?"

"Not in the least," Ivan smiled, saccharine. He grabbed Alfred's neck, diving into a kiss. He chewed on Alfred's bottom lip, drawing it out between his teeth. Alfred wiggled his arms in between them, finding the buttons of Ivan's heavy coat and nearly ripping them off. Ivan ceased the kiss. "Do you know how buttons work?" he asked critically.

"Of course I do, asshole!" Alfred argued. He glanced at the mattress self-consciously. "I'm just more accustomed to snaps, you know?"

"These aren't snaps, Alfred," Ivan gently informed. "You can't open my coat by yanking on them."

"Well, I _could,_ " Alfred responded.

"You won't," Ivan ordered.

"Then unbutton them yourself," Alfred scowled.

Ivan rolled his eyes. "Watch closely. Maybe you'll pick up a technique."

"Oh, I'm sure," Alfred joked, watching intently. Ivan narrowed his violet eyes, jerking his scarf from the table and tossing it in his face.

"You sound like a creep. Or a dumbass." Ivan undid each button, shrugging off his coat and folding it neatly. He stacked it at the end of the bed, looking back at Alfred with a scrutinizing expression. Ivan's scarf still draped over his face.

Ivan inclined, adjusting the scarf over Alfred's eyes and tying it behind his head. "Dude, seriously?" Alfred judged.

"Yes, dude," Ivan smirked. "Would you prefer breath play, instead?"

Alfred scoffed. "Last time we did that, you went too fast and I couldn't breathe enough to say the safe word."

"So - ?"

"Rope that shit around my windpipes and call me a whore, babe."

"You are the least appetizing creature on the planet," Ivan lamented. He untied his scarf and moved it to Alfred's throat. "I'm afraid that scarves don't have nearly the amount of strength as leashes," he forewarned, knotting the scarf at the base of Alfred's neck.

"Just do your best," Alfred encouraged. He made a peace sign. "Shoot for the moon! Even if you miss, you'll be among the stars!" he beamed.

"Oh, my God," Ivan giggled. "Oh, God, shut up."

"Make me," Alfred challenged. He reclined onto the thin pillows, pulling the scarf with him. Ivan didn't budge his grasp, letting Alfred set the pace.

The scarf strained against his skin, and Alfred said, "More." Ivan tugged the scarf, constricting Alfred's breath. Heat piled in place of air. The fabric chafed mildly in a ring around his neck. "Tighter," he rasped.

Ivan held the knot as he wrung the scarf. A couple seconds passed, then the heat in Alfred's throat coagulated. It was like he had swallowed cement. Alfred bit his lips, squeezing his eyes shut. It was dark behind his lids. There was the sensation of being enclosed in a tight box, cut off from everything.

Then there was a slight loosening on his neck. Air trickled down his lungs, scarce as the water droplets from a leaky faucet, and Alfred's lungs clawed through the cement to grab what they could. The air was cut off before Alfred could get relief and _fuck,_ that was  _insane._

Ivan bent forward, murmuring _darling_  in his ear.

"Yeah?" Alfred forced out with an effort that punched his lungs.

"I'm getting bored," Ivan hinted. Alfred rolled his eyes and discovered he had a headache.

Alfred graciously wheezed, "Perestroika." Ivan relented, undoing the knot quickly. Air filtered in. Alfred felt the light-headedness like he was a popped balloon being whipped about by its own depressurization. Alfred coughed briefly, rubbed under his chin. "Okay," he began. "You're bored. What do you want me to do about that?"

Ivan glanced up thoughtfully. "Not much, unless you want to. Taking off your pants might facilitate the process, though."

Alfred hitched his hips up, fighting with his belt. His tongue pointed out. "I'm always up for less pants," he vouched, unsnapping his slacks and kicking them off.

Ivan smiled wryly. "Yes, so I've heard from NATO."

Alfred's big blue eyes widened behind his glasses. "Who the hell in NATO is talking to you?" he questioned, words sounding wholly rougher than his tone.

Ivan pitched his white t-shirt to the end of the bed with Alfred's pants. Cheerfully, he remarked, "I'm glad we're both concerned over each other's relations with NATO members!"

Alfred looked like a caged animal debating whether to attack or show its belly. Ivan found it quite adorable. "Dude, I don't know even half of NATO," he pleaded. "I just show up, read off a slip of paper for a couple hours, and someone cashes a check when I sign into my bank account. I don't know _who_ has my money at this point, I swear."

Ivan wondered if dating Alfred would be easier by not believing him every time he admitted to something very, very stupid. Ivan thought it would be.

"You should be more discriminating," advised Ivan, sliding his hands up under Alfred's plain white tee. He rutted against Alfred's boxers, causing Alfred to groan quietly and close his eyes. Ivan worked off his belt and trousers. Alfred raised his hips against Ivan's crotch impatiently. Ivan pushed away Alfred lightly with a hand on his chest.

Alfred hooked his thumbs in his boxers and wedged them down his thighs, pulling his knees up and flinging his underwear off his legs with a gymnastic kick in the air. His underwear smacked Ivan in the face as he was removing his pants. The boxers fell to the bed, Ivan pursing his lips and staring unhappily at them.

"Oops," Alfred offered. He cautiously pinched his boxers, slowly moving them out of Ivan's line of vision and setting them on the floor.

"You almost kicked me in the face," scolded Ivan. "You're lucky you didn't."

Alfred shrugged. "Hey, look at the bright side, big guy: you got a whiff of the intoxicating scent of Jones."

"You're a pig," Ivan reminded, looking pained. "You don't even smell good."

Alfred snorted. "Something wrong with your nose? I mean, besides the whole disproportion thing," he clarified, waving his palm as if to simulate Ivan's face.

Ivan smiled. "I will bash your nose in if you do not stop talking."

"No, you won't," dismissed Alfred, hooking his arms around Ivan's neck and bringing him in. Tension wrapped around Alfred where Ivan's boxer briefs pressed against him.

"You're too assured. I don't like it," Ivan mumbled against Alfred's mouth. Alfred kissed aggressively, his hands clenching Ivan's neck as if he wanted to break it, and Ivan thought possessively of how many had been held by Alfred like this and were scared by the ferocity that gripped them.

Alfred didn't have a butterfly touch, one that tickled and teased. Alfred never teased. His caresses were like punches, bruising skin and provoking adrenaline. His love was not a warm dream, but a hot reality with concrete sensations that enveloped every inch of Ivan and left no room for ambiguity.

Ivan drifted his lips to Alfred's jawline, breathing feverishly. Alfred's breath hitched and he grabbed Ivan's arm painfully, wrenching him down so that Ivan half-toppled over him. Ivan caught himself with his other hand, which nearly hit Alfred's face to keep him from falling.

Alfred's eyes were closed, though, because Alfred had a habit of checking out randomly during sex. Ivan could still hold him responsible for his actions, but the argument wouldn't get anywhere and there was a certain charm about having an only semi-functioning Alfred underneath him. He functioned in the necessary ways, after all. As for finesse - neither of them valued it anyway.

Ivan yanked his underwear off, which provided little relief and instead made everything feel abruptly urgent. "Alfred," Ivan said raggedly, "protection?"

Alfred's eyebrows pointed in an arrow down his nose, face screwing. "Huh?" he asked, not opening his eyes.

"Do you have protection? I didn't bring anything with me," Ivan explained. Alfred began to palm himself absently. Ivan rolled his eyes. "Well?" he repeated testily. He contemplated slapping Alfred's hand away.

"Yeah, yeah," Alfred answered, nodding dazedly. He propped himself up, reaching toward the nightstand and lazily feeling up the drawers for the right one.

"Just get up," Ivan reproached.

"Can't," Alfred grunted, "already up." His fingers continued fumbling blindly along the nightstand, finally choosing a drawer Ivan had watched him touch three times before deciding it was the one he wanted.

Alfred pulled out the drawer, hand feeling inside before retrieving a handgun.

Ivan instinctively jumped backward out of Alfred's lap. Alfred frowned. "Hey, where'd ya go?" he whined.

"Why do you have a gun?" Ivan hissed.

Alfred finally opened his eyes. He grinned toothily, scrounging together some bravado from the depths of his blissed-out conscious. "I'm always prepared, babe," he crowed, smiling sleazily.

Alfred wasn't pointing the gun at Ivan, which eased his nerves enough to slide back between Alfred's knees. "Alright," he sighed, laying his hand over Alfred's gun and lowering it to the bed. "I meant condoms. Do you have condoms?"

"Condoms?" Alfred said, baffled. "How is that going to protect us?"

Alfred's delusion of invincibility was going to kill him one day. Ivan would make sure of that. "STDs _do_  target nations, Alfred. Francis has given multiple speeches about this at UN meetings."

 _"Secret Terrorist Division?"_  Alfred said like one would say,  _Yeah, right._ "I don't think they're much of a threat, pal. They've been quiet ever since their leader got caught up in that whole Marilyn Monroe fiasco." Alfred leaned against the wooden headboard, arms crossing behind his head and knocking the board. A new mark joined the constellation of scuffs on the wall.

"Do you have condoms or not?" Ivan was going limp.

Alfred rolled his eyes, fingering the chain around his neck. "Literally, if an STD member walks through this door right now, a condom is not doing shit." Alfred's dog tags had found a way inside his mouth - farther with him than Ivan was getting - and he was swirling them annoyingly around his tongue as he spoke. "You can't kill anyone with a condom. Trust me, Japan knows all about this stuff."

Ivan had been looking forward to this. He probably could get away with convincing Alfred to go down on him, which was always amusing, but he also wanted to call this off on principle. He liked principles. He also liked Alfred spread out beneath him with bruises on his bones. He didn't know which was more important.

"If I had to defend myself, and I was given the choice between contraception and a gun, I'm going with the gun. So, can we get our priorities straight?"

"Oh dear God, I wish I could," spoke Ivan, staring at his penis like it would unlock the answers he was seeking

"Good. Then we're on the same page. Now, I'm going to leave the gun on the table, if that's going to put you at ease, and I'll even take it off safety if you're that worried about being interrupted. Anybody who walks in will be dead before they see us doing the hanky panky."

"Principle, it is," Ivan decided, throwing his legs off the bed.

"Whoa, yo, where are you going?" Alfred interrogated, sitting up in alarm.

"Russia."

"You won't be cold?" asked Alfred. Ivan scowled at him and reached for his scarf.

"Oh, well, as long as you've got a scarf -"

"Would you be quiet?" snapped Ivan. "I'm trying to get dressed."

"I know. That's what's disconcerting. Think we spent ten minutes taking it all off. Now we'll have to do it all over again. And you've got a fuck ton of layers."

"I'm not having unprotected sex!" Ivan snarled, trying to figure out how shirts worked and how to put them on when you don't want to.

"I have a gun!" Alfred flailed his arms.

Ivan turned sharply to Alfred, bending toward him. "Sexually transmitted diseases," he enunciated slowly. "Condoms prevent diseases contracted through sex."

Alfred blinked, gazing back blankly. Then his eyes sunk to carpet. "I thought they only prevented pregnancy," he admitted.

Ivan needed to leave. "Why would you think that?"

"Why wouldn't I?" he defended sorely.

Ivan stood up straight, trying a second time to correctly align the buttons on his shirt. "At the very least, there should be domestic meetings discussing contraception."

Alfred shrugged, staring at the floor to hide his embarrassment. "Senator Lindsey Graham says those talk aren't good for me, and I'd probably be bored anyway."

"If Senator Lindsey Graham told you to jump off a bridge, would you do that?"

Alfred scrunched his nose. "Why would Lindsey Graham tell me to jump off a bridge?"

"Because he jumped."

"That makes no sense, why would he be jumping off a bridge in the first place?"

"Wishful thinking," Ivan clipped. He trailed to the end of the bed, stretching across the mattress for his pants. Alfred caught his wrist and tugged. Ivan looked tiredly at him. "What?"

"Can I get pregnant if I suck you off?" inquired Alfred, intentionally widening his pretty, blue eyes.

"Yes."

Alfred grinned big. "I hope it's a girl," he said wickedly, and yanked Ivan back on the bed.

 

**BONUS:**

"Now, I don't want to alarm anyone, but it is vital that everyone remain on guard," Francis glanced up from his notes at the podium to fix the gathered nations with a sober, entreating gaze. His blond curls were polished to a shine and molded into perfect, smooth coils, which hung over one shoulder in a ponytail. His tailored suit was an eye-catching shade of gay purple.

"Indeed, the Secret Terrorist Division is still out there. America, not present today, has been contacted several times over the subject of STD protection methods. Unfortunately, America has not sighted high STD activity in his own country, and therefore does not believe it has run rampant in other countries - particularly those with "third world" governments, as we call them. We cannot rely on him for this danger. However, we can rely on each other.

"I am proposing that we assemble a subcommittee specially for STDs until they are safely identified and imprisoned."

From a seat at the far right of the table, Ivan surreptitiously unveiled a canteen, smiled, and took a deep gulp of vodka.

 


End file.
